


the luckiest man in the world

by theclaravoyant



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Canon-esque Coarse Language, Fluff, M/M, Mild Sappiness, Missing Moments, Post-Cabaret, but i stand by it, pre-wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 06:07:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21791329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theclaravoyant/pseuds/theclaravoyant
Summary: Curtains close, and David, Patrick and Stevie get a moment to catch up.Featuring; beloved physical intimacy, plentiful sarcasm and wit, and patented Rose melodrama, of course.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer & Stevie Budd, Patrick Brewer & Stevie Budd & David Rose, Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Stevie Budd & David Rose
Comments: 36
Kudos: 92
Collections: Schitt's Creek Open Fic Night 2.0





	the luckiest man in the world

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aelia_Gioia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aelia_Gioia/gifts).



> written for Open Fic Night - December 2019, for @Aelia-Gioia, who prompted (paraphrased) "Cabaret after party shenanigans; just the three of them talking about the show, the wedding, etc - dealer's choice." Technically, this is pre-after party, but I think the heart of the prompt still stands. I hope you enjoy it!

When the lights go out, David claps so hard for so long that his hands move past stinging to aching to numb and back again. He claps and claps, and whistles when the company bows, and he’s not used to feeling this full-hearted excitement – this _pride_ – after watching someone put themselves out there like that. (Let alone someone associated with him, someone he’s close to, someone he _loves)._ But here he is.

And when Patrick eventually emerges from backstage with a change of clothes and an admittedly rushed attempt to clean off his make-up, the feeling doesn’t fade. If anything, it becomes even more intense; so much so that David’s chest almost hurts as Patrick lets loose a string of excited post-show babble. His brief greeting kiss leaves a little smear of lipstick and face paint on David’s cheek, but David doesn’t notice, caught up instead in trying to follow the highs and lows of the night’s performance as recounted by Patrick and the dolled-down Kit Kat Klub dancers at an uncharacteristically breakneck speed.

“- I think that was my favourite part, what was yours?”

Patrick pauses at last; hesitation flicking across his features as he remembers that this isn’t really David’s _thing._ But by this point, there are tears in the corners of David’s eyes, and as the rest of the cast begins to dissipate into the crowd, David pulls Patrick in for another, gentler and more lingering greeting. Patrick smiles into the kiss, but before he can take the opportunity to smart-mouth David about it (“- and don’t say the parts where I was on stage, because I was on stage the whole time -“), David speaks.

“You really like this, don’t you?” he asks, and he can’t help but sound a little incredulous. “The whole, getting up in front of people, telling other people’s stories or whatever… thing. Like, genuinely.”

“Yeah,” Patrick replies, still a little breathless from the show, and because he hadn’t realised quite how much he had missed it. “Yeah, I do.”

David squeezes Patrick’s hand in encouragement, and tries not to think too hard about how grateful he is that Patrick is able to so thoroughly embrace what makes him happy, and has brought that vulnerability and joy into his life too – and dare he add, with the golden rings on this very hand, had promised to keep it there forever.

“Congratulations, honey,” David croons, and bites back a smile, because at first he had started using that pet-name ironically and so help him, he’s actually starting to like it. “I’m proud of you.”

The two of them decide to sneak in one more kiss, before Moira or Jocelyn or someone can come and whisk one or the other of them away, but at the last second, Patrick notices Stevie slip out from behind the backstage curtain. She looks a little uncomfortable, overwhelmed, and while that’s not unusual for her in a crowd like this, something makes him swoop away from David to collect her before any of their adoring public can put her any more on the spot than she already feels.

“Speaking of proud,” Patrick cheers, “you got it, Stevie! That scene – it was incredible! What tipped you?”

Stevie picks at the corners of the long-sleeved plaid she’s all too happy to be wrapped back up in.

“I had a chat with Mrs Rose.”

David cringes. “Oh, God. I’m sorry.”

“No,” she assures him, “it was- kind of good, actually.”

David presses his lips together and his hand crosses over his heart. It’s only for a moment, but enough for Stevie to notice, and it tells her that he’s experienced the strange balance his mother keeps as well. The glint of the rings on his fingers as they cross briefly through the light also reminds her that she had promised herself to yell at Patrick earlier, and now seems as good a time as any, so she slaps him on the arm.

“Oi!” he yelps. “What was that for?!”

“You didn’t tell me you were getting married!” she exclaims, by way of explanation, and then jabs a finger at David. “I had to find out from your boyfriend this morning and drive to _Elmsdale_ on _opening night!”_

“It’s not like we eloped!” Patrick returns. “It was just an engagement –“

“ _Just_ an _engagement-“_ Stevie objects, but then David cuts her off by pointing out –

“His fiancé. You found out from his _fiancé_.”

That brings the blush back to both Patrick and Stevie’s cheeks. They smile at each other, and then at David, who takes another moment to fawn over his rings.

“I did, didn’t I?” Stevie acknowledges, and damn it, her cheeks are starting to hurt from smiling. She tries to school her expression, and for the most part fails, but she raises an eyebrow nonetheless.

“So, who’s a girl gotta bribe to get a best man request around here, then?”

They both open their mouths at the same time, so Stevie frowns and adds –  
  
“You know what, I take it back. We all know David’s gonna be a bridezilla so Patrick, bribe accepted, I’m in.”

They each touch their own noses and point at each other, grinning, and David doesn’t even have time to accuse them of unbalancing the social dynamic with in-jokes from his mother’s improv exercises, because he’s already too busy with an eye-twitch and a rant -

“Uh, _stereotyping_ much?!” he blurts. “Just because I might pronounce words correctly and-“ painfully aware of the way his hands are flying, David leans on the word – “ _gesticulate_ more than Patrick, does _not_ mean I’m going to be a ‘bridezilla.’”

“Yeah, Stevie,” Patrick adds, keeping his expression frustratingly innocent in David’s defence, despite his sarcasm. “Have you met David? He’s totally cool and chill and can absolutely handle stress and unexpected change with grace and dignity.”

Glaring daggers, David smiles at the co-conspirators opposite him.  
  
“Okay. Well. I hope the two of you are very happy together.”

“I’m sorry, Mr Holding-Back-Tears,” Patrick says, and doesn’t actually sound sorry at all. “Speaking of which, don’t these people have somewhere to be?”

“Shit.”

David dives for the nearest chair and climbs up onto it, and to the crowd’s delight, announces that champers and nibbles is on at ‘the Rose suites.’

 _(“Where’s that?”_ Roland asks, and Jocelyn elbows him.)

People obligingly filter out, and David tries not to glare too hard at the _ridiculous_ number of them who are gossiping about his and Patrick’s engagement already. So help him, he decides, he’s going to get his proper announcement, even if there’s only one person left in this place that hasn’t heard it. It’s already hard enough not to run to the nearest rooftop and yell it out – in fact, he probably would have done that already if it weren’t for all the stairs.

He climbs down from the chair, and starts running through lists in his mind of drinks and nibbles and where it all is and how long it will take to finish setting up. He’s behind. So much for being a good host. Damn that surprisingly engaging performance. And damn his fiance’s poorly-timed romantic gestures.

David’s eyes narrow as he sets his sights on Stevie and Patrick once more, in between his more pertinent, host-lier thoughts.

“We’re not done,” he warns. He’s not in the mood to be sassed by these two troublemakers right now – like Patrick said, he has somewhere to be. But before he can bustle past on a mission like the busy-yet-egregious picture of popularity he now is, Patrick reaches out and takes his hand.

David takes a deep breath, and lets his sense of urgency fade. He moves as easily as water when Patrick pulls him in, pouting gently with his baby-blues shining in the stage-lights. Further delays to champagne and cheez-its be damned, David thinks; as always, Patrick is right. He’s going to treat himself to enjoying this. After all, isn’t _this_ the whole reason he’s been so worked up about the announcement in the first place? Yes, of course it may be partly because he’s something of an artist (and perhaps also a little something of a control freak) with these things – but more than anything, it’s because he’s about to marry this man. This man – _this incredible man_ – wants to _marry_ him. And he can certifiably say that his _best friend_ is going to be there to witness it. And sure, yeah, his family or whatever, with whom he now has a more wholesome relationship than he has had in a long time, possibly ever. And he can blame the show and Stevie’s song and _bridezilla_ all he likes – which is another thing he has to admit he’s totally kidding himself about – but in this moment, David Rose feels like the luckiest man on earth.

Patrick kisses his cheek again, right at the corner of his lips, which despite both valiant effort and lifelong habit, surrender to another blossoming smile.

“I love you, husband-zilla,” Patrick vows.

“Love you, too,” David grumbles, and he wants to roll his eyes, but he’s blushing too much for it to have the intended effect.

“Aw,” Stevie croons, and for a moment, she thinks about following it up with something heartfelt and sincere. But her stomach is growling, and she was promised wine and cheese, so she clears her throat. “Come on, lovebirds. You can be adorable later – let’s get you to this party before all the crab cakes are gone.”

“Nobody ever eats those things,” David protests.

“But,” Patrick adds, “maybe we _should_ make an appearance before Mrs Rose finds out her son has kidnapped the stars of the show.”

Right on cue, David’s phone starts ringing.

Patrick pulls his keys out of his pocket, and hoists his bag onto his shoulder. Eyeing him, Stevie does the same.

“Hiiiiiii,” David greets, hoping the longer he makes it, the more manageable it will be. But his mother’s voice is no less of a potent combination of proud-hurt-scolding when she interrupts with a signature –

“ _DA-vid!”_

Her voice shakes the tiny tinny speaker, and David winces as he holds it away for a moment and mouths – _“Run.”_

Patrick and Stevie don’t need to be told twice.


End file.
